By Mr. Black
I may finally have to break up with Delta Airlines.
Flying with Delta is like being in an abusive relationship with a crazy chick. Fights that cause you to question your sanity. Passive aggressive comments that force tongue biting. Let downs and laziness sprinkled with dishonestly. A drunken behind-the-bar infidelity on her girl’s night out. You know it will very likely end by waking up with a knife sticking out of your stomach. But the sex is so good you endure.
That’s Delta in a nutshell. The sex is good.
When Delta is good it is good. Delta offers the best flights to the destinations I want to go. Its Sky Clubs are a temporary respite from the unwashed poors. The onboard Wi-Fi and entertainment selections are amongst the best. And like celebrating your silver anniversary; I have so much status on Delta, hitting the dating scene at this point in my life is just too daunting.
So, what is so bad about Big Red and Blue?
The Bullshit of Air Travel
The bullshit starts when checking a gun. If you check a gun, forget about using the app to check in as Delta considers safe, responsible, firearms transport dangerous, and those who engage in it should lose all conveniences. When you go pick up your firearm in baggage, after they verify your ID (most airlines do not require an ID check), out comes the industrial-strength meter-long zip ties to “secure” your case before handing it back.
Pro Tip: carry a knife in your other checked bag. Patiently watch the two Delta personal wrestle to put on multiple straps. As soon as they hand over the duly “secured” case, cut the zip ties off and hand them back. They freak out, but just remind them this is simply a retarded Delta policy, not law. No other airline does this.
Then as a minor annoyance there is the nonstop bombardment of woke propaganda. It starts with the pictures lining the jet bridge. Delta proudly portrays every personage and combination known to man, handicapped (capable) adventurers, as well as every religious and sexual orientation imaginable. I’m sure I’ll see the Bearman from “The Shining” giving Santa a hand jibber before I see a single photo of a Caucasian husband and wife with two non-adopted kids going to Disneyland. Forget about showing a safari hunter in Africa, which I guarantee represents a much higher percentage of their passengers than the image of the two gay men snugging in first class, which they love to showcase. But showing a safari hunter would be of course offensive to some.
After the walk-of-the-woke, sit down and enjoy the preflight video, which always highlights some liberal cause Delta is championing—from underprivileged kids who can’t afford to golf to the most recent one supporting the “unheard” women leaders of the WNBA. I’m not 100% sure what they were talking about as I tuned out as soon as the leader started spewing Kamala-esque alphabet soup. But I’m sure the message was important…to the one WNBA fan.
But on my last flight the final straw nearly broke my back.
I’m used to hearing the pre-flight messaging regarding not smoking, using chewing tobacco, drinking your own alcohol or tampering with smoke detectors (do they really have to say “tamper, disable or destroy?” I would argue “tamper” covers all of the above…but I digress).
I like Copenhagen, but being a reasonable person I can get on board with a chewing tobacco ban (and it is a law not a Delta policy—don’t ask me how I know), as it often requires spitting saliva into a container. I could see how this could be offensive to other passengers.
Then nicotine pouches hit the scene and my problem was solved. I started with ZYN but soon found ALP more my style. Better flavor, moist, versus the dust of ZYN, larger pouches and with stronger options (up to 9mgs), you don’t have to pop in multiples. Finally, with 20 in a can they are a better value. You don’t need to spit, but if you do want to take one out on that long flight to Africa it is clean, white and can be discreetly stored in the top of the Field Ethos Vice Tin.
The Camel’s Back
I had just popped in a Tropical 9’er when I heard the middle-age chubby stew add to her fun-sucking soliloquy “Including nicotine pouches.” I looked up to see her glaring at me.
What in the fuck? The crazy girlfriend from the abusive relationship had just jumped the shark—well at least as much as her post-weight-restricted-flight-attendant-policy frame could jump anything. Her eyes bored into me, but I left in the ALP for the duration of the flight. I have done so on every Delta flight since then and I will continue to do so.
Commercial flying is stressful enough; I’m not going to do it without nicotine. I hope to someday just fly exclusively on Leviate Air Group‘s fleet of PJ’s, but until then If Delta enforces their policy, I’m going to have to beg United to match my status.
But I’ll be honest: even if Delta gets serious with their no nicotine rule, I’ll still fly with them, but I will enter their bathroom, slam a traveler of Horse Soldier bourbon, probably tamper with a smoke detector and insert a suppository ALP.
Yes, like the crazy girlfriend, I’ll put up with a lot.
